October 13, 2012

Peter Rabbit’s caught in the head lights,
one of big ears, ears is gone.

The day the zombies came to town
everyone pretended they’d gone away,

Tom and Jerry went to heaven
and then came back
in one of fifty
shades of grey.

The shopping centres are imploding,
the library’s surrounded,
the gallery’s closed,

pound shops are glowing
with electrical silence,
the ward is a crime scene,
blood on the walls.

The day the zombies came to town
they came wearing dresses and suits of grey,
they came absent minded with sleep in their sachels,
reaching out arms with sledgehammer grace.
One Nation, relation
Dizrali migration,
we’re in it together,
the zombies said.
We’re changing Britain,
the plan’s been written
and everyone’s in it
alive or dead.

The zombies of Fleet Street are coming to get you.
The zombies of High Street are laying you low.
Zombies in the home and zombies in the city.
Zombies in the closet, zombies on the news.

The zombies of parliament are slack jawed and mumbling
The zombies are pacing the corridors of law
The dead things have risen, to feed on the living

a necessary sacrifice
in times of austerity
a forfeit of many
to provide for the few.

The zombies are walking into the theatre
The zombies are stumbling into the school
The zombies are taking an axe to the bus stop
and they want their pound of flesh from you.

Christopher Rob-n
has lost an eye.

Squirrel Nutkin’s
skinned alive.

Jemima’s gone mad
but the refuge is gone.

Consumers are massing.
The zombies are sacking.
The benefits are lacking
and work, is scarce.